open both doors and then slide from the roof into the car,
through one of them, after the dog had gone out the other one.
I leaned over to open the right door. I had forgotten that it
was locked. At that moment the dog’s head came out through
the opened door. I had an attack of blind panic at the idea
that the dog was going to jump out of the car and onto the
roof.
In less than a second I had leaped to the ground and found
myself standing at the door of the house.
Dona Soledad was bracing herself in the doorway. Laughter
came out of her in spurts that seemed almost painful.
The dog had remained inside the car, still frothing with
rage. Apparently he was too large and could not squeeze his
bulky frame over the front seat. I went to the car and gently
closed the door again. I began to look for a stick long enough
to release the safety lock on the right-hand door.
I searched in the area in front of the house. There was not a
single piece of wood lying around. Dona Soledad, in the
meantime, had gone inside. I assessed my situation. I had no
other alternative but to ask her help. With great trepidation, I
crossed the threshold, looking in every direction in case she
might have been hiding behind the door, waiting for me.
Dona Soledad! I yelled out.
What the hell do you want? she yelled back from her
room.
Would you please go out and get your dog out of my
car? I said.
Are you kidding? she replied. That’s not my dog. I’ve
told you already, he belongs to my girls.
Where are your girls? I asked.
They are in the mountains, she replied.
She came out of her room and faced me.
Do you want to see what that goddamned dog did to me?
she asked in a dry tone. Look!
She unwrapped her shawl and showed me her naked back.
I found no visible tooth marks on her back; there were only
a few long, superficial scratches she might have gotten by
rubbing against the hard ground. For all that matter, she could
have scratched herself when she attacked me.
You have nothing there, I said.
Come and look in the light, she said and went over by the
door.
She insisted that I look carefully for the gashes of the dog’s
teeth. I felt stupid. I had a heavy sensation around my eyes,
especially on my brow. I went outside instead. The dog had
not moved and began to bark as soon as I came out the door.
I cursed myself. There was no one to blame but me. I had
walked into that trap like a fool. I resolved right then to walk
to town. But my wallet, my papers, everything I had was in
my briefcase on the floor of the car, right under the dog’s feet.
I had an attack of despair. It was useless to walk to town. I did
not have enough money in my pockets even to buy a cup of
coffee. Besides, I did not know a soul in town. I had no other
alternative but to get the dog out of the car.
What kind of food does that dog eat? I yelled from the
door.
Why don’t you try your leg? dona Soledad yelled back
from her room, and cackled.
I looked for some cooked food in the house. The pots were
empty. There was nothing else for me to do but to confront
her again. My despair had turned into rage. I stormed into her
room ready for a fight to the death. She was lying on her bed,
covered with her shawl.
Please forgive me for having done all those things to you,
she said bluntly, looking at the ceiling.
Her boldness stopped my rage.
You must understand my position, she went on. I
couldn’t let you go.
She laughed softly, and in a clear, calm and very pleasing
voice said that she was guilty of being greedy and clumsy, that
she had nearly succeeded in scaring me away with her antics,
but that the situation had suddenly changed. She paused and
sat up in her bed, covering her breasts with her shawl, then
added that a strange confidence had descended into her body.
She looked up at the ceiling and moved her arms in a weird,
rhythmical flow, like a windmill.
There is no way for you to leave now, she said.
She scrutinized me without laughing. My internal rage had
subsided but my despair was more acute than ever. I honestly
knew that in matters of sheer strength I was no match for her
or the dog.
She said that our appointment had been set up years in ad-
vance, and that neither of us had enough power to hurry it, or
break it.
Don’t knock yourself out trying to leave, she said.
That’s as useless as my trying to keep you here. Something
besides your will will release you from here, and something
besides my will will keep you here.
Somehow her confidence had not only mellowed her, but
had given her a great command over words. Her statements
were compelling and crystal clear. Don Juan had always said
that I was a trusting soul when it came to words. As she talked
I found myself thinking that she was not really as threatening
as I thought. She no longer projected the feeling of having a
chip on her shoulder. My reason was almost at ease but
another part of me was not. All the muscles of my body were
like tense wires, and yet I had to admit to myself that although
she scared me out of my wits I found her most appealing. She
watched me.
I’ll show you how useless it is to try to leave, she said,
jumping out of bed. I’m going to help you. What do you
need?
She observed me with a gleam in her eyes. Her small white
teeth gave her smile a devilish touch. Her chubby face was
strangely smooth and fairly free of wrinkles. Two deep lines
running from the sides of her nose to the corners of her mouth
gave her face the appearance of maturity, but not age. In
standing up from the bed she casually let her shawl fall
straight down, uncovering her full breasts. She did not bother
to cover herself. Instead she swelled up her chest and lifted her
breasts.
Oh, you’ve noticed, eh? she said, and rocked her body
from side to side as if pleased with herself. I always keep my
hair tied behind my head. The Nagual told me to do so. The
pull makes my face younger.
I had been sure that she was going to talk about her breasts.
Her shift was a surprise to me.
I don’t mean that the pull on my hair is going to make me
look younger, she went on with a charming smile. The pull
on my hair makes me younger.
How is that possible? I asked.
She answered me with a question. She wanted to know
if I had correctly understood don Juan when he said that
anything was possible if one wants it with unbending intent.
I was after a more precise explanation. I wanted to know what
else she did besides tying her hair, in order to look so young.
She said that she lay in her bed and emptied herself of any
thoughts and feelings and then let the lines of her floor pull
her wrinkles away. I pressed her for more details: any feelings,
sensations, perceptions that she had experienced while lying
on her bed. She insisted that she felt nothing, that she did not
know how the lines in her floor worked, and that she only
knew not to let her thoughts interfere.
She placed her hands on my chest and shoved me very
gently. It seemed to be a gesture to show that she had had
enough of my questions. We walked outside, through the back
door. I told her that I needed a long stick. She went directly
to a pile of firewood, but there were no long sticks. I asked her
if she could get me a couple of nails in order to join together
two pieces of firewood. We looked unsuccessfully all over the
house for nails. As a final resort I had to dislodge the longest
stick I could find in the chicken coop that Pablito had built
in the back. The stick, although it was a bit flimsy, seemed
suited for my purpose.
Dona Soledad had not smiled or joked during our search.
She seemed to be utterly absorbed in her task of helping me.
Her concentration was so intense that I had the feeling she was
wishing me to succeed.
I walked to my car, armed with the long stick and a shorter